Little Rooski is trying these days to become more independent. Typically, she likes independence about as much as she likes mushrooms, which is about as much as her Aunt Laryssa likes mushrooms, which is about as much as you could fit inside a pixie's thimble. If ever you wanted to. Rooski doesn't like mushrooms, independence, responsibility, school, cleanliness, finishing a book, finishing a book report, finishing anything, or squash. She does like hot wings, shopping, quality time, graciously allowing her mother to read to her, creepy things, doll houses, bohemian hippy skirts, tie-dye, and accessories. But this story is about her growing up just a little.
When you're a mom you no longer get to do anything by yourself. You're never ever EVER lonely. So that's a good thing. But when you're trying to do alone type things, this can actually be a detriment. Apparently I've really been a bear lately when it comes to having five seconds per day alone in the bathroom because suddenly at least one out of three of my gremlins have been attempting to not establish contact with me during those five seconds. This is unusual and makes me alternate between giddiness and suspicion.
Giddy, as in: wahooo! there's soap in my eyes and no one is hollering bloody murder! I feel giddy!
Suspicious, as in: hang on a second...why is it so quiet? have my gremlins been kidnapped by ax murderers or are they just eating a bag of sugar?
But this morning as I was enjoying my five seconds, Anna decides she has a hankering for a strawberry smoothie. Now normally she'd hint around, cajole, wheedle, and then hand me the blender. Or her sister. Then she'd skip merrily off to climb a tree or paint a picture or lovingly rearrange her collections of rocks and used gift tags, only to come back when her frosty beverage is ready for sipping.
But this particular morning her big sis wasn't home and I was attempting a shower. (Most people actually take showers, mommies just attempt them most of the time). My super deluxe 'Spidy Sense ears could hear the conversation going on between her and her brother (because I'm listening for ax murderers and the rustling of a bag of sugar). It went like this.
"Okay, okay...blender...blender...where do we keep the blender? Here's the top...bottom, bottom, oh here it is! Okay...okay...ice...ice is - right! Ice in the freezer. Okay. Strawberry stuff. Here it goes...Gianni! Back up! Back up, G! You're making me spill! Don't lick it! Oooo, you are so gross! No! Give it back! Make your own smoothie! This is hard! Okay...okay...why won't it turn on? Gianni! Come back! Do you know how to work the blender?
Yup, the ten year old is asking the four year old for help with small appliances. This runs in the family. I ask the eleven year old for help with the printer on a daily basis.
Why won't it work?? No, don't get Mommy! We're gonna figure this out, Batman. We can do this. I think my ice is melting. Stop licking the floor! Sheesh. You're so weird. Help me! Ack! Okay, it's working but it's really loud. Why is it so loud? Is it broken? It's not crushing the ice. It's so loud but it's still not blending it up right. Is it? I don't know. This is hard. No, don't get Mommy! K, I'm gonna turn it on again. Stop licking that! It doesn't look right...does it look right? Here. You taste it! Good? Oh man, you spilled again! It was too you! You got in my way and made me spill! For crying out loud, Gianni. Fine. Lick it up. Now I have to start over. This is so bad. Aagh. I don't want a smoothie anymore.
She's so cute. I love her. I hope her husband will love her. And bring her smoothies and buys her silent blenders and doesn't lick the floor. Her standards are very high thanks to her little brother and the bar he's set. As an example, Rooski would prefer her suitors do not streak through the house and if they do streak through the house, she would prefer that they don't clench toy trucks between their cheeks. Yes, those cheeks. It's really not too much to ask.